10-Year Tenure

There's something about the 10-year mark that gives me pause (as evidenced here and here). Yesterday, I passed another of those milestones: I've lived in Central Florida for ten years. This is actually a year longer than my second stint in my home state of Oregon. (In fact, now that we've been in the house known as Chez Dan for just over four years, I think it's the longest I've lived at any one address since the house where I grew up.)

When I first moved here, the draw of working for my company, combined with the very powerful urge never to drive cross-country again, kept me here. There was a time when having eight theme parks within a one-hour drive, and thus never a lack of things to do, was a great reason to stay. Honestly, none of these have the power they used to (especially not when compared against the recent weather-related unpleasantness). Now, I think I'm here by a small amount of simple intertia — and a whole lot of connection to friends I've made. Sure, I still daydream (heavily!) about returning to the mountains — or at least, to being within view of them — but after ten years of building this family, I don't really think I could live anywhere else.